


A Helping Hand

by TheL3mon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, anyway I hope you enjoy, because they discontinued it, but its too good to gather dust, from someone, i adopted this story, i have permission, just to make that clear, so here it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:11:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10100030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheL3mon/pseuds/TheL3mon
Summary: Lynn Taylor had always been a caring person, wanting to aid every sentient being that she came across but finding a man, passed out and bleeding profusely from multiple wounds across his body, laying face down in the snow during her trip to the store was a new one, even for her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the tags, I adopted this story from a user on Fanfic.net (under the same name). I did ask before posting this piece here and to stay true to the original author, the work they had already posted (aside from a little editing) is mostly unchanged. This means that the first four chapters will be mainly their work and all other chapters will be my writing. 
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoy!

Lynn Taylor had always been a caring person. She was kind, selfless, and helped whoever she could help, whenever she could help. She gave everything she could to help those around her, and anyone who knew her also knew of her kindness. Lynn had always known this about herself- she had never once thought about herself before helping those with less. She prided herself on being a gentle person, and caring for every sentient being she came across.   
  
But finding a man, passed out and bleeding profusely from multiple wounds across his body, laying face down in the snow during her trip to the store was a new one, even for her.   
  
Gasping quietly in surprise as she finally noticed the wounded man, it was snowing heavily and she could barely see ten feet in front of her, she dropped her umbrella in shock. Only a moment of staring later, she rushed over to the bleeding person and knelt down at their side, allowing her to see the very clearly torn clothing and red seeping from the cuts, into the snow. They were fairly deep lacerations, ranging in different sizes all across his body, though the largest one seemed to slice down his back and round onto his front. Lynn gaped at the scary amount of fresh wounds, but she almost immediately began to move.   
  
There was no way she was strong enough to carry this heavy looking man by herself, her small stature of 5'6 would give out in no time. She rushed back to her small cottage, only a small walk away, and began pulling out her rusty old wagon. Rushing back to the man, she began panting as she once again knelt by the body. She turned him over, with what little strength she could manage in the cold and looked over the man's wounds once more. She was right about one thing, the heaviest and deepest wound was the one that slashed across his back, the end of it curling around his side and coming to a stop just above his navel. Lynn shuddered to think of who, or what, could do such a thing to a man.   
  
Letting out a determined huff of warm air that curled in dragon’s breath in front of her, she began pulling the heavy man by his arms into the rusted, faded red wagon. The wheels creaked in protest as his heavy weight landed atop it, pushing it deeper into the snow. Lynn stopped for a moment, to catch her breath, before continuing to pull the man into the cart. Once his upper body and waist were thrown haphazardly into the red wagon, she began pulling the much heavier cart back to her home as quick as she could, silently apologising to the hurt man for the rough treatment. If she could treat his wounds in time, he may live. Then again, Lynn didn't even know if this man was still alive right now, kicking herself at her carelessness, let alone in fifteen minutes. Still, she trudged on, her green and purple tinted umbrella long forgotten in the heavy snowfall. As she walked, she thought,  _ what could have done this to him? _   
  
Lynn was well aware that there were many wild animals living in the same, dense, forests that she lived in. Her small cottage laid at the center of the forest, the only spot of warmth in the cold winter storm. Animals came by from time to time, but she had multiple traps and the like set up around the area so she would know if any of the more dangerous kind showed up.   
  
For instance: she had lain out a thin wire just above the ground, empty cans and metals tied to the string loosely. If anything were to knock into it, say, a bear, or a wolf even, it would rattle and alert her long before the animals could reach her, and she'd have time to prepare. Frowning, she glanced down at the beaten and bloodied man.   
  
He hadn't set off any of the traps.   
  
In fact, the traps hadn't gone off at all these past few days. While that was normal for the animals, as most were going into hibernation or were already long into their peaceful winter slumbers, how come this man had gotten here without setting them off? Nonetheless wounded. Glancing at the cuts on his body once more, she furrowed her brows in concentration.   
  
They could not have be animal attacks. She knew all about those types of attacks, animals were strong, yes, but they couldn’t have done this. Whatever did this, did it with precision. They were quick, and ruthless in their fighting. She shuddered to even think of encountering such a being, and she felt pity for the man for having to go through such a thing.   
  
On the other hand, she thought, opening the front door to her cabin with her hips and elbow, struggling to pull the wagon up the front steps, he definitely looks like he knows how to defend himself. True, the man was tall, well built, and even gave off the aura of being a strategic fighter. Combined with the mysterious tattoo over his left shoulder, spiraling down his toned forearm with an intricate pattern that ended above his wrist and down his hand...   
  
Lynn decided to feel a lot more cautious about the wounded man.   
  
Nevertheless, she pulled him into her home, shutting the door quickly and pulling the wagon to the couch in the center of the living room, not even bothering with the snow coating both the wagon and herself, although she knew she'd regret it when she'd have to clean it all up later.   
  
Huffing with strain once more, she carefully lifted the man onto the couch. Or, rather, she propped his upper body onto the couch first and after that, lifted his legs up there as well. Then, she started a fire in the cobble fireplace. She glanced at his almost blue tinted skin and threw in a few more logs, just for good measure. She shrugged off her heavy winter coat, toeing off her snow boots and throwing them carelessly across the room where, she hoped, was the mat at the front door. Running up the stairs, she grabbed what medical supplies she could find in her bathroom before rushing back down, almost tripping in her haste.   
  
She only stopped to breath once she was kneeling beside the man once more, elevated slightly by the warm, brown couch he laid upon. A warm brown couch now coated in blood and currently melting snow. She mourned for a moment before she got to work.   
  
Working as a military nurse for most of her life, her father having trained her since she was young, Lynn Taylor had learned to not be bashful when having to remove one's clothing for medical attention, but not even she could help the ever so slight red tint on her face as she began peeling away the bloodied clothing. Taking a closer look, Lynn couldn't help but feel the garments were of a different culture. Either Chinese or Japanese, from what little information she knew of the cultures. There were intricate patterns all over the clothing, including the yellow and white ribbon tied up in his hair, the designs were beautiful, and she made a note to learn more of the culture and artwork another time.   
  
Once Lynn had managed to peel the cloth from around his shoulders and torso, she began cleaning the largest wound. The other wounds would have to be cleaned and tended to as well, but if she didn't work on this one first, then he surely wouldn’t survive.   
  
After that was taken care of, a clean, white bandage wrapped securely around his abdomen, and she began to work on the other, smaller cuts.   
  
Nearly a half hour later, Lynn was finished tending to the man's wounds. Having placed heating packets against his arms and torso a while ago, with a hot towel draped across his forehead, she nodded approvingly at the quickly fading shade of blue of his skin. With a health color returning, Lynn was able to notice that his skin seemed to be slightly tanned, as if he spent most of his time out in the sun. Sun kissed, she reminded herself. People would call it a "sun kissed" skin tone. Thinking on the name now, she did have to agree that the name suited it, as the man did look as though the sun had swooped down and kissed him.   
  
And with those kinds of features, she couldn't blame the sun.   
  
Shaking her head at her own joke, Lynn gathered her equipment and began cleaning up the mess she and this unconscious stranger had managed to make in such a short period of time. She put away the medical supplies, throwing the man's clothing into the laundry room, he currently laid in his underwear, mopped up the quickly drying blood from the floor and finally, replaced the warm towel and heating packs across his body. Sighing afterwards, she stopped next to her glass coffee table and studied the man.   
  
She stared at the his face, silently contemplating. 

He was alive and he was breathing. Quiet and shallow, yes, but he was still breathing and alive, which was good. He did have handsome features, Lynn realized. A strong nose, high cheekbones, a full set of lips- she scrunched up her nose, stopping that train of thought and turned to his other features. His hair was long, perhaps even reaching past his shoulders if it weren't for the yellow cloth tying it back into a high ponytail. She hadn't taken it out when cleaning his wounds, as she saw no need to but she was beginning to get curious on how long his hair was, exactly. The sides of his hair, and his neatly trimmed beard, were both showing signs of graying, and she wondered how old the man was.   
  
Then, she was struck by the realization that the man was still uncovered.   
  
Lynn carefully set down the large, ceramic bowl which currently held freshly heated water for the hot towel and began jogging up her stairs once more. Rushing to the last room on the long hallway, she began digging through her closet. In the back, to the left, was a bunch of clothing much too large for her. Her father's old clothing. Whenever her father would outgrow his clothing, or simply no longer wanted them, he would send them to Lynn. All because she used to wear his shirts when she was younger. He used to think it was adorable, then it began to become somewhat of a tradition, as her father sent her clothing almost every Winter, almost as a reminder to stay warm. She smiled as she dug through the clothes, trying to find an outfit that would fit this mysterious stranger.   
  
She clicked her tongue once she found some clothing that she deemed large enough.   
  
Pulling out the plain black shirt almost three times her size, she slung it over her shoulder as she pulled out the dark grey jeans as well. These would have to do for the man, for now.   
  
Walking back down the stairs, she began dreading having to dress him again. The task of having to lift him to pull the shirt over his head or to pull the pants over his legs were difficult, as she wasn't nearly as strong as he looked to be. She sighed once she got to the bottom of the stairs, deciding that it didn't matter. The man needed help, and as long as she may live, she would help anyone who needed it.   
  
So, she began dressing him once more, all the while ignoring the want to untie his hair, as it would be rude and pointless. Once dressed, she pulled back, glancing down at the man, now clad in her father's old clothing.   
  
He looked good in black.   
  
Lynn stifled a giggle, covering her mouth. She quickly tucked her comforter around the man and then she pulled it away, staring at her blue long sleeved shirt in disgust. There was blood all over her clothing. His blood. Lynn bit her lip to keep from visibly gagging. She hated blood, so much. The smell, the feel, even her time in the army hadn’t cured her of her squeamishness it would seem. If anything, she even winced at the color red but that, she had learned to control. She huffed, walking up the stairs again.   
  
Fatigue finally began to settle in as the anxiety of pulling a wounded stranger into her living room began to wear off, leaving her tired and aching all over. Her eyes felt heavier, and she held her breath to stay awake as she began pulling off the dirtied clothing from her body.   
  
Walking into her bathroom with a pair of oversized joggers, a plain, dark grey shirt, sports bra tucked under her arm as well as a pair of underwear, she avoided the mirror. She was insecure about herself and had never liked her own body. She thought it unfit and plain, perhaps even ugly if she was feeling particularly bad about herself.   
  
At a height of 5 foot 6, and only weighing 120 pounds, she was small and thin. Not unhealthily so, she knew, but just enough to make her feel bad about herself. Her onyx black hair fell straight around her shoulders, reaching the curve of her back before stopping in slight curls. Brushing a hand through her hair, she glanced into her own eyes in the mirror. Green and blue. Her eyes were the one thing she loved about herself. She always did think that the eyes told a lot about a person. How did the saying go? 'The eyes are the window to the soul' or something or another? She would have to agree with that phrase. Her right eye was a vibrant green, 'like a forest' her father would say. Her left eye was a dark blue-grey color, 'like polished steel'.   
  
She sighed, continuing her short walk to the shower in the corner of the bathroom. Starting the water, she began peeling off her soaked undergarments as the water began heating itself. Dropping the wet clothes to the floor, she stepped into the shower. The tiles underneath her feet were already warm from the heated water, and she sighed in bliss, the hot water being a greatly appreciated contrast to the cold air of her home. Raising her shoulders to her chin, she curled into herself as she tried to spread the warmth all over herself.   
  
After applying a thin coat of shampoo and spreading it across her head, she simply stood under the hot shower water for a moment or two, or several. She always lost track of time in the shower. She'd always loved the water, even before she knew how to swim. She had wanted to learn for as long as she could remember, but it wasn't until she was sixteen that she was really able to.   
  
She paused under the water as the image of her family came to mind, before beginning to spread the water over her head, closing her eyes and breathing through her mouth as to not get water in her nose. She sighed once again, relaxing her tense shoulders and letting herself forget the memories.   
  
The stranger came to mind.   
  
Lynn opened her eyes only slightly, as if she would see the man before her when she looked and honestly couldn't tell if she was disappointed or not when she was met with the empty grey tiles as she always was when in the shower. When realizing her lone presence, she closed her eyes once more, tilting her head up towards the ceiling, breathing slowly through her mouth as the water cascaded down her back and over her legs. The action caused her hands to fall to her neck, resting over her shoulders as she cupped her neck with her palms. Her wrists glided over her breasts, and she bit her lip.   
  
One arm slowly glided down from around her neck, over the sensitive front of her throat, and down to her breasts. She circled the hardening bud slowly, almost teasingly.   
  
When the hell did she get so turned on?   
  
She didn't bother opening her eyes even as she continued to touch her own breasts. Slowly circling her index finger around her breast, she thought of the man on her couch. She inhaled sharply when pinching, and exhaled when rubbing the padding of her thumb over the now-hard pink bud. She felt an oddly familiar feeling of warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach, and she nearly bit her lip as one hand began sliding down her body, over her breast, down her smooth abdomen, circling around her belly, lower and lower, until-   
  
She stopped suddenly, her eyes flying open.   
  
What was she doing? That man was wounded and stranded in the forest, alone and perhaps confused as to where he was and how he got there, and yet she had the audacity to- to- please herself to the thought of him?   
  
Almost as if sensing her shame, the water began turning cold from how long she had been in the shower. Lynn took in a shuddering breath, the warmth in her stomach dissipating with the sudden cold, and she hurriedly began washing the coconut smelling shampoo from her hair as she continued to mentally berate herself.   
  
She stepped out of the shower after the shampoo was gone, and her body was clean. Drying and dressing herself quickly, she walked out of the bathroom, dirty clothes in hand. Dropping them off into the laundry room, reminding herself she needed to wash and stitch the man's clothing, she began making her way to her bedroom.   
  
She had been planning on going to the store earlier, as it's almost a full day's trek through the snow to get into town and back with supplies, but it was too late now. It was well past noon, and Lynn thought about making some broth for herself and the stranger. 

After, setting the soup to simmer, her eyes began drooping once more, suddenly reminded of how tired she was from exertion, she decided that a nap was what she needed right now. After yawning and doing her routine stretches, she hopped into bed, shaking as if to dispel the cold as she settled herself down underneath the warmth of the blankets. After settled, she stilled, looking out the window to the left of herself as she lay on her side.   
  
She could still see the patches of blood in the snow.   
  
Narrowing her eyes only slightly, she once again thought of the man. How would she deal with him after he woke up? Would he wake up while she was asleep? What if he was a murderer- would he kill her in her sleep? Lynn shuddered at the thought, burrowing deeper into the blankets as if they could offer her protection from the pretend ideas of a murderer, though they did little else than offer her comfort and warmth in the middle of a heavy snowstorm in winter. She was thankful for that, at the very least. There was little else that would provide the same comfort as her own bed, and she didn't want any of it as she began drifting off. She fell asleep, with only one question on her mind.   
  
Who the hell was this man?


End file.
